


Giant Blind Spots

by BlueShell



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Iwa-chan Is Suffering, M/M, Makki and Mattsun Cameo, That is Oiks thinks Iwa is being homophobic, but he's not, some implied homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 02:32:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10630326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueShell/pseuds/BlueShell
Summary: Sometimes Oikawa Tooru drives Hajime insane.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [timelessidyll](https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelessidyll/gifts).



> So, this is an exchange gift from the Iwaoi Gift Exchange (iwaoiexchange) on Tumblr. I'm the gifter for ren (tsaltyshima-kay), and, among other things, they asked for oblivious Oikawa and Iwaizumi suffering because of his denseness. I think both our boys ended up a little dense in the end, and I'm worried the end result isn't what you wanted at all, but I hope you still like it!
> 
> Note 01: The boys are eating Meiji Essel Super Cup ice cream, which is basically ice cream that comes in a pot. There are lots of flavors, from vanilla to chocolate to seasonal flavors. Iwa-chan is eating matcha ice cream, which is basically green tea ice cream. (He strikes me as the guy who would like that kind of thing.)
> 
> Note 02: 3000 yen is about 30 dollars, I think?

“This,” Oikawa proclaimed, holding the spoon up in the air, “is the food of gods. The food of _gods,_ I tell you.” 

The vanilla ice-cream was sliding down the smooth wood surface, and Hajime couldn’t help but wrinkle his nose, imagining how hard it would be to clean it off his couch. “Shut up and eat before you make a mess.” 

“ _Mean_ , Iwa-chan,” was Oikawa’s reply, but he dutifully raised the spoon to his mouth. 

The tongue peeked up from lips gone pink from the cold, and licked the white substance slowly – and Hajime could only regret it, as a sudden flush traveled down his cheeks and ears to his neck. 

Oikawa blinked. “You’re all red, Iwa-chan. …Brain freeze?” 

“…Just shut up.”

Sometimes Oikawa Tooru drives Hajime insane.

It wasn’t enough that he’d fallen for his best friend, his _childhood_ friend, the one person who was guaranteed to see him forever as that seven-years-old with skinned knees and nose full of snot. It wasn’t enough that what had begun as just a little crush – some blushing here and here, some checking him out at the locker room – had blossomed into a very distressing, very hard to suffocate infatuation, and that by the end of their third year he was head over heels about someone who didn’t even see him that way.

No, no, Oikawa just had to be the most gigantic _tease_ in the story of unrequited love pining.

He was naturally charming. It was the reason why all these girls kept drifting around him like flies, more than the artfully mussed hair or the haughty pose (not that Oikawa would ever believe that). Put anyone he didn’t know before him and Oikawa became the very picture of pleasant, all solicitude and playful banter; things had been like this for a long time and Hajime no longer expected anything else. 

What he had never anticipated was just how affected by this he would eventually become. Whenever Oikawa flashed that smile at a waitress, Hajime also felt his heart skip a beat; when he stuck his tongue out, Hajime could only imagine how that mouth would feel glued to his. He had no need for that charm, he knew his friend had a lot more to him than just that, but sometimes he imagined Oikawa looking at him that way, all focus and intent and grace. 

Worse still were the times Oikawa wasn’t even trying to affect anyone – probably didn’t even know he was moving Hajime – but somehow managed to make his best friend burn from the inside out. 

They would be watching a movie, and all of a sudden Oikawa would rest his head against his shoulder, waving those coffee-colored strands in front of him and making his fingers itch with the desire of running through them. Whenever Oikawa visited Hajime’s apartment, he would make a point to fight for everything – best futon, best pillows, best bathrobe – and they would often start wrestling if Hajime didn’t yield fast enough; the ghost of Oikawa’s fingertips lingered on skin long after the dispute was settled. On his own home, Oikawa had a jaw-dropping habit of walking around naked after a shower, looking for clothes to wear and then asking Hajime just why he had gone so red, he didn’t need to be so shy! 

Every little thing – from those one-armed hugs he freely gave away, to resting his head on Hajime’s lap and sighing happily, _everything_ – seemed designed to drive Hajime crazy, and sometimes he wondered whether his friend had found out about his crush; whether all this teasing was just Oikawa waving in his face that nothing would ever come of that stupid feeling. 

Of course, then Oikawa would look at him, and smile – one of those honest smiles that seemed to make the whole world worth living, and Hajime would wonder how could that thought ever have sprung in his mind. 

Right then, the problem was the noises Oikawa was making as he ate; who moaned like that about frigging ice-cream? 

“It’s just that it’s _really really_ good,” Oikawa said, and Hajime must have been even worse off than he’d thought, if he’d said _that_ out loud. 

“It’s gross, that’s what it is,” he replied anyway. 

He had to add another thing to his already endless list of regrets when Oikawa’s eyelids dropped mischievously. The moan that followed when his best friend dipped the spoon into his mouth was even louder than the first ones. 

“I guess your matcha ice-cream just doesn’t do it, right?” he cackled with delight. “Can’t believe Iwa-chan gets embarrassed by something like this.”

The _nerve._ “ _Anyone_ would get embarrassed by you, asshole.”

“What, like Iwa-chan never heard those moans?” Now he was putting his tongue out, and Hajime had to hold himself in place not to shake because of the shiver that ran down his spine. “I guess Iwa-chan must be really bad with girls, then? Ohhhh, I don’t remember you being that red since that time we caught Watari and his girlfriend in the club room—” 

“Oh my God _,_ Oikawa, _stop.”_ He didn’t need to remember anything that could make him even redder. 

Oikawa’s laughter turned into silly giggles, as he lapped at the ice-cream still in the spoon. “If I’d known it was so easy to gross you out… Iwa-chan’s such a kid.”

And that was absolutely rich, coming from a guy who almost had an overdose of milk bread the week before – so he picked Oikawa’s Super Cup, placed it carefully on the side table, and, smirking inside as he watched his friend’s confused expression, proceeded to take the only acceptable course of action: tackling.

They rolled around from the couch to the floor, Oikawa squealing all the way (“Stop, Iwa-chan, this is not _funnnnn—)_ , and determinedly avoiding Hajime’s attempts at putting him into a chokehold. Hajime tried to make him turn around and hold his arms down, but Oikawa’s limbs kept flailing at awkward positions, and, once or twice when it seemed like he would be able to ensnare his friend, one of those pesky setter hands started tickling his sides.

They struggled a little bit longer – he just kept forgetting how strong Oikawa was – and would probably have wrestled themselves into exhaustion if Hajime didn’t accidentally hit the side table, making Oikawa’s vanilla ice cream fly and hit Oikawa in the back.

(The scream was really something to see.)

“Iwa-chan, you brute! I loved this shirt!” Oikawa complained, turning his head this way and that as if he would actually be able to see the damage. He turned to Hajime with an offended frown. “It’s a tragedy, stop laughing!”

That just made Hajime laugh harder. “Just put it in the washing machine, idiot, it’s not like it won’t come off.”

“I’ll do it right away,” Oikawa said, and just – just took off his shirt.

Hajime hated himself so much.

Of course, it made sense that Oikawa was in shape when he was still the regular setter of a highly competitive team – still kept staying behind training his serves till the late hours of the night – but actually seeing how much always made Hajime a little breathless; he would follow the suave lines of those abs and connect the small moles on his hips and he should _not_ be staring at Oikawa like this, he should just turn his head –

“OK, seriously?”

Hajime turned to see Oikawa’s frown, the one he wore when there was something seriously wrong, like Takeru’s bullies or Ushiwaka or – _oh shit_.

Something dropped inside his stomach, like he’d eaten the whole cup of matcha ice-cream in a go. “Oikawa, I can ex—”

“Am I that disgusting, then?”

“…What?”

“Am I that disgusting that you can’t even _look_ at me right without my shirt on?” Oikawa’s face kept contorting, and he pressed the dirty shirt into his chest like it was some sort of shield. “I mean, OK, being grossed out by sex things is the kind of stereotypical macho bullshit we were taught, but this – this is just _me,_ you don’t need to feel _threatened._ ”

Hajime wasn’t following that conversation anymore. “Oikawa…”

“So OK, maybe I should have come out to you instead of hiding it, I know I _should_ have, but even if you figured it out on your own you don’t have to _act_ like I’m repulsive—”

“But I’m not—”

“Or do you think I don’t notice that you go all stiff when I hug you, or hold your hand, and all these things we used to do _normally_?! If it’s such a big deal to you, maybe you should also stop talking to Makki because, _newsflash,_ he’s—”

“Oikawa, what the fuck you’re talking about?!”

He could see the few first tears escaping Oikawa’s eyes, and now Oikawa was the one turning away so Hajime couldn’t see. “I’m talking about how you figured out I was gay and now you don’t act like yourself anymore!”

...He had indeed sometimes suspected Oikawa was gay, but had dismissed it as wishful thinking. “You’re… you’re gay?”

Hajime watched as Oikawa’s frown dissolved into a blank expression. “…What?”

“You’re gay,” Hajime repeated, because it did seem too good to be true. _Even if he’s gay it doesn’t mean he’s interested in you, idiot._ “ _You’re_ telling me you’re gay.”

“…You didn’t figure it out yourself?” Oikawa asked. The anger seemed to defuse out of him. “I thought I was pretty obvious. Iwa-chan, I’m _flamboyant._ ”

“I – I don’t know – I mean, you’ve always been like that, you’ve just been a little more touchy lately, but it wasn’t that much different—”

“Oh my God, Iwa-chan. You really are _that_ dense.”

Hajime would be offended, but he was honest enough to admit the truth. “I think I’m densest when it comes to you.”

Oikawa chuckled a little at that, but expression was still puzzled. “It doesn’t explain why you – why you’re acting like this with me. Are you really that embarrassed?”

Hajime’s eyebrows moved on their own. “I’m not very good at reading people, but you’re supposed to be the super setter who can read everyone, Shittykawa.”

“It’s not that easy outside of court!” Oikawa yelled. “Especially when it comes to you, I never know if I’m right or if I’m just… seeing what I want to see.”

And he _blushed._

It couldn’t possibly – he couldn’t possibly –

“Oikawa,” he said. His tone was so serious that Oikawa snapped to attention immediately. “I am making assumptions here.”

“…OK?”

“…So now I’m going to do something based on those assumptions. If I’m wrong, you just punch me and I’ll take it back and we’ll forget it ever happened, OK?”

“Iwa-chan, you’re scaring me now.”

“I’ll scare you if you don’t _shut up._ ”

“That doesn’t even make sens—”, Oikawa started to say, but stopped himself when Hajime stepped closer, and placed his hands on the setter’s arms.

He looked into Oikawa’s overly surprised eyes, closed his, and slowly leaned in to touch his best friend’s lips with his own.

Oikawa’s eyes were still overly surprised when he leaned back; also, the flush had spread down to his neck and chest. He was opening and closing his mouth, gaping like a fish.

“Oikawa?” Hajime called cautiously. “…I need a reaction. _Now._ ”

That got Oikawa to start talking. “I – I – but you’re – I – how – this can’t—” He pointed an accusatory finger at Hajime. “You’re straight!”

Hajime’s eyebrows rose on their own again. “No, I’m not.”

“But you dated girls!”

"Have you ever heard of bisexuality, _dumbass_? Besides, so did you!”

“Yeah, but _I_ was only kidding myself!” Oikawa ran his hands through his own hair. “Since – since when?”

“Since when am I not straight? There’s, like, a whole philosophical and biological question here—”

“Don’t sass me right now, Iwa-chan, you know what I’m talking about!” He looked a little unsure all of a sudden. “You do know, right? You – and – and me?”

For the first time in a long time, Hajime could read Oikawa as clearly as if his emotions were written on his forehead. He leaned in again and was not surprised when the setter met his lips halfway; much less when he granted him entrance and let him explore every corner of his mouth, like he’d been wanting to do for ages.

“For a guy who’s supposed to be a good people-reader, you have some giant blind spots,” he whispered into Oikawa’s mouth, and got a breathless giggle as a reply.

And then Oikawa started trying to reach for something on the couch.

“What’re you doing?”

“Just a minute, Iwa-chan, I _need_ to tell Makki about this! That son of a bitch, better at reading _you_ —”

“…You do know you’re killing the moment, I hope.”

“Rude, Iwa-chan! I’m just spreading the good news about—”

He never did hear about the good news, because he was too busy hugging Oikawa from the back and burying his nose on that slender neck, trying to get used to this reality where he would be able to feel Oikawa’s scent all the time.

He couldn’t help but be thankful that everything would be OK despite their obvious “vision” problems. 

* * *

It ended up taking a while, but, by the end of the afternoon, Hanamaki was laughing his ass off, while Matsukawa grumbled and started looking for 3000 yen in his wallet.   

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!  
> I'm on Tumblr, at athousandblueshells


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